


Danmark

by Kazaha_87



Series: Nordic Stories [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blood and Violence, DenNor, M/M, Mild Gore, Multi, NorIce, fluff...in a way, start of a sure future dennorice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 12:10:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7976326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazaha_87/pseuds/Kazaha_87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they finally went ashore after days of sailing, they found Danmark waiting for them at the pier.</p><p>Ísland had never met him before and Norge had never described him physically, but he could tell just by looking that that tall, blond man with messy hair and a dumb grin waiting on the dock in the crowd was him.<br/>He had the final proof the moment the man looked their way and then soon offered them a broad, happy smile while rushing over, almost swimming in that mass of people to clear his way to them.</p><p>“…noisy…”, he muttered with his teeth clenched, his contrasting feelings about meeting the man growing instead of lowering.</p><p>“I see you finally start to understand”, Norge commented in a low, flat and resigned voice, and Ísland flinched, not expecting him to be able to hear him in the loud environment. But when he turned to watch at the blond, he noticed that his gaze was locked in the man’s direction even if his stone face betrayed no emotion at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Danmark

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Here I am, back again with a third story that sees Norway and Iceland protagonists (and now Denmark too!)  
> I actually wanted to finally write a Dennorice, but it seems that I'm still not ready to leave my favorite Hetalia couple for something else, even if it's not a change but an addition. XD  
> Maybe next time Denmark and Iceland will be luckier in trying to convince Norway to totally submit - and to do it in front of his new little brother too :P
> 
> PS: In this story - as much as the previous ones, I'm trying to use Viking era's references about measurement of space and time, so at the end of the story there'll be a short note about the new measurment unit I used. About time division of the day, if you're interested there's a note at the end of the first story of the Viking cycle. (I don't remember, but it might be at the end of the first chapter, actually...)

After a moon cycle and a half passed in Norway, visiting first the villages along the fjords and then, at last, the new capital Oslo where he also met Harald II, nephew of Harald I Hårfagre, the first Viking king who unified Norway under a single flag, they finally set sail towards Denmark.

He actually had contrasting feelings about meeting the man, and the prospect to see him and pass there with him at least an entire moon cycle – as it was Norge’s plan – made him grow incredibly irritated, especially because Norge seemed impatient to arrive for some reason.

 _Impatient_ … not that Norge was an easy one to read, but somehow he could tell just by looking.

Anybody watching at him wouldn’t have noticed at all, because he acted the same, his face was like stone as always and he got easily annoyed by little stuff like any other day; but maybe it was that last point… maybe he was slightly more irritable than usual, and, each day passed on the ship, that aura of impatience around him grew.

By the way, he seemed to be the only one who noticed that something in him was slightly different from usual, but that only exasperated him _more_ , because at a certain point he even started to think that he was just imagining things.

…but he was right, and he had the last proof of it when Denmark’s shores finally appeared on the horizon.

“We’ll be ready to dock in less than an átt and a half.”, Norge stated approaching him on the deck and he joined him there to look at the still far away land, his eyes locked on that grey line in the distance.

But despite the tone – as flat as always – his hands were clutched on the edge of the railing so hard that his knuckles were white, and that was the only sign his body allowed as showoff of how he really felt about it.

But for Ísland that was proof enough to read between the lines and understand.

…far more than enough, actually, and he didn’t like it in the slightest, but despite that he said nothing and just walked away from him, wanting only to stay alone until he could.

-&-

When they finally went ashore after days of sailing, they found Danmark waiting for them at the pier.

Ísland had never met him before and Norge had never described him physically, but he could tell just by looking that that tall, blond man with messy hair and a dumb grin waiting on the dock in the crowd was him.

He had the final proof the moment the man looked their way and then soon offered them a broad, happy smile while rushing over, almost swimming in that mass of people to clear his way to them.

“…noisy…”, he muttered with his teeth clenched.

“I see you finally start to understand”, Norge commented in a low, flat and resigned voice, and Ísland flinched, not expecting him to be able to hear him in the loud environment. But when he turned to watch at the blond, he noticed that his gaze was locked in the man’s direction even if his stone face betrayed no emotion at all.

Meanwhile Danmark was crawling in the crowd flailing around to them like a mad man, but Norge just continued to walk straight and gave him back no sign of acknowledging him in the slightest. But, at the same time, Ísland noticed that he never kept his eyes off him, neither for a moment.

When the man was finally at just a few steps from them, he saw him throw his arms in the air and jump to hug Norge with a very irritating and dumb smile literally splitting his face in half; but he never reached his goal, because a totally unexpressive Norge threw his troll at the man, who got smashed flat on the ground midway.

“This is my new brother, Ísland, and so, from now on, he’ll be part of our family too. Treat him well and remember that he’s mine.”, Norge stated in a flat tone finally sending his troll away from the noisy man and, at the last unexpected comment, Ísland couldn’t hide a proud glow that slightly tinged his cheeks.

A copiously bleeding Danmark raised his head to that, finally noticing the small figure at Norge’s side, and so he offered one of his best – bleeding and aching – smiles to the child nation in front of him too.

“Hey! He’s small! But he’s also almost as beautiful as you!”, he happily commented while standing up again and winking at the blond and then at him. Then, with another wide grin, he made to hug his new brother, but Norge’s troll appeared again and again it stopped Danmark’s attempt in the most violent way.

This time, by the way, the harassed one loudly protested where he didn’t say a word the first time he had been smashed on the ground, as if the first time was just the usual.

“Come on, Norge! You’re cruel!!”, he emphatically complained with a master-pout distorting his – in a way, at least – otherwise handsome features. “I was just trying to show him my enthusiasm for his arrival and for being a new member of our family! He’s new, after all, and I, as the oldest, have the duty to put him at ease and to make him feel at home!”

“I’m sure you can show him your enthusiasm even from afar, bror”, Norge retorted without batting an eyelid and Danmark just hesitated for a moment, when he suddenly turned towards his brother and, taking him totally off guard, he jumped at his back and, the right arm around his throat and the other hand blocking his left arm in a strong clutch against his back, he immobilized him with a victorious smirk.

“I got you! And you know that my way is _the best_ way, so keep your troll at bay and just stay there and let me give him his welcome-hug, ok?”, the blond, noisy man stated and then waited for a nod from the other before releasing him… a nod that actually never came, because Norge struggled instead and gave him a strong kick on the calf that this time took Danmark off guard.

“I already told you that he’s mine, so hands off.”, and even if his left wrist was still clenched in an iron grip, freeing himself from the other’s arm at the throat and turning to watch at his brother, he used his other hand to pack a punch right to his face.

…not that it could actually be enough to send Danmark to the ground, but it slowed him down and took him slightly by surprise, and responding to the attack was the only way he had to show to Ísland that he was strong and determined and reliable, even if he knew that bror Dan was it more than him – but he and Ísland were very much alike, so, even if Danmark was stronger than he was, he knew that his new lillebror would have preferred him to Dan because the man was too noisy and annoying for his liking…

“Must I be jealous?”, Danmark abruptly asked, taking Norge totally by surprise with the sudden question, and so he took advantage of that moment of distraction to close his favorite brother in a grip-embrace with both arms around his chest and arms, blocking his every movement.

“Let me go, you bastard!”, Norge started to complain and fight back in Danmark’s grip, but, even if he rationally knew that there couldn’t be a worst moment _ever_ for that, there in the crowd, all that proximity after so long and that struggling in vain against Dan’s firm structure elicited an unwanted reaction in his already needy body.

… and the other, regrettably, noticed…

“Ho ho!”, he mocked him then, starting to react to him too. “If you were jealous of my attentions to him you should have just told me from the start, you know?”, he smugly smirked. “I would never neglect you, Nor! And I missed you too, you know? This last winter seemed to never end without you, and it’s almost a year and a half that we don’t see each other. You can show me a little more enthusiasm for once!”

Norge, in response, turned from a bright red to a plain white when he remembered that Ísland was there, watching them and hearing Danmark’s allusive words to him. Then, when he collected himself again, he called back his troll and let the creature do the dirty work for him, finally freeing himself from his brother; and, against Norge’s troll sent to him at full rage-mode, Danmark could do absolutely nothing this time.

When, after a few minutes, then, the Dane was a mess in a pool of blood on the ground, without daring look in Ísland’s eyes, Norge took his little brother by the hand and, walking _upon_ Danmark with him, he brought him away and left.

“Come”, he just stated to the young one in a still irritated tone, a vein even pulsing at his temple so much so that he was annoyed by what had happened, “let’s go to that stupid’s house to get some rest. And you”, he then addressed the man now under their feet, stopping over him so to make his words more incisive and cruel, “take it easy while pulling yourself together again before coming back: we won’t miss you, by the way…”, he hinted, his tone slightly less flat than usual with a tinge of sadism in it, and then he finally headed towards his big brother’s home together with his little brother, who just silently followed him along those unknown and extremely crowded streets that gave him an headache, being him still not used to have so many people – and so much noise – around.

 

“I don’t like it here”, Ísland stated once behind the closed door of Danmark’s house, his head like splitting in half and his breath slightly short. “Everything is too noisy… _he_ is too noisy… I want to go away. Bring me to Sweden. I’m sure it’ll be better there: you said that Sverige finds him annoying too, then I’m sure that we’ll get along well.”

But surprisingly Norge defended his big brother.

“Give him a chance.”, he said only: not an explanation nor a reason why he should do that, and Ísland found himself at a loss for words at the other’s suggestion, not having seen it coming at all.

“I can do to you anything he does…”, the smaller one suddenly proposed to him, breaking the heavy silence that had followed Norge’s last words, “I can give you anything he gives you… You taught me well”, he tried to convince him, “and you know that I’m a fast learner. Please, let’s go away.”, his tone pleading, and Norge, who had just sat in front of him on a chair, abruptly stood up again and gave the boy the shoulder, probably to hide his face to him.

When he finally turned back again after a few moments, by the way, his face was as imperturbable as ever.

“Don’t be silly, Ís”, the blond cut him short, his tone and features hard and serious, but this time, after months from their first – and last – quarrel, Ísland snapped again.

“I want to touch you too!”, he yelled, “Why can that noisy bastard touch you whenever and wherever he wants and I can’t?”, he protested, and that aroused a reaction in Norge like last time.

“First”, he started, glacial, “he can’t touch me _whenever and wherever he wants_ , and second”, he pointed out scathingly, “You. Just. Can’t. I’ll never allow it. And also: I don’t like it when he touches me, so stop asking.”, he stated, but at that exact moment the door snapped open and Norge paled where Ísland, on the other hand, for once turned as red as the sun at sunset.

“Liar”, the newcomer only exclaimed before closing the door again behind his back, and Norge froze for an instant.

“Shut up!”, he retorted once his lie got suddenly exposed, and when Danmark attempted to dissent he called for his troll and threw it at him.

This time, by the way, Danmark dodged the attack and reached him, knocking him down as fast as a fury.

“Call it back or else.”, he intimated, Norge’s arm in an iron grip as a deterrent and, at last, the blond had no other choice but surrender this time, because he recognized the tone, and he wasn’t bluffing.

“……I’ll bring him away with me”, the little Ísland declared all of a sudden when the air in the room seemed to lighten up ever so slightly once the Dane finally freed him, but, irritatingly enough, Danmark scoffed at him in response.

“You said that he doesn’t allow you to touch him…”, he only answered back to his previous statement, “…so how do you expect to be able to satisfy him?”, he provoked the boy, who snapped at him offended.

“Don’t you dare mock me! I’m sure I’ll make him change his mind, and then I’ll be so far better than a loud and dumb man like you!”, Ísland retorted, ready to fight for Norge even if he knew that he had no chances to physically win against that man, but then it happened something that left the boy completely confused: Danmark burst out laughing – not in a mockingly way but in a _happy_ way… – and then grabbed him under his armpits and raised him in the air, making him turn around a couple of times before firmly hugging him against his chest.

“You really are adorable!”, he exclaimed content, “I can definitely see why Nor likes you so much! Hey, Norge”, then he addressed the now sighing blond at his side, “won’t you share him with me?”, he suggested and, to that, Ísland just shouted in protest and started to struggle in the embrace in the vain attempt to free himself.

“What in Odin’s name are you talking about, you noisy bastard?!”, the boy yelled, but that only made the Dane laugh harder and jump around with him in his arms more satisfied.

“…and would you listen if I were to say ‘no’?”, Norge annoyingly retorted, his teeth clenched in irritation, but he already knew the answer even before Danmark would speak, as much as he knew that there was no way to make him change his mind when his brother decided that he wanted something.

“Noregur! How could you---”, the boy shouted in protest to his brother’s last defeated words without even fighting for him like he would have done for the man, but he was cut short by a fierce peck on the lips coming none other than from that loud stupid whom he felt like he already hated more than anything else in the world.

“Then it’s decided!”, Danmark declared as if everything was already settled and totally uncaring about his complaints and, moving the child as if he was as light as a feather from his arms to over his shoulders, he brought him to the next room and then he lowered him down on the bed while Norge just followed them there with the umpteenth resigned sigh.

“And now, little Ís”, the noisy nation started with a broad and slightly malicious grin curving up his lips after moving to Norge’s back and locking the door (and removing the key so that the blond couldn’t run away), “I’ll show you how to please your favorite brother… you said you’re a fast learner, so watch closely and then I want to see you do the same.”

And while Ísland’s eyes got wide in shock _and_ anticipation, Norge turned even paler than when Danmark had shown at the front door.

“…I already _forbade_ him from touching me. You can’t just decide for me! I said no, so it’s no. I’m not going to change my mind about it! And stay away from me, you hear?!”, the Norwegian intimated while shrinking back as much as Danmark approached him, until he found a wall against his back to stop his withdrawal.

And to that, surprisingly, Ísland replied first.

“But you can decide for _me_ , broðir?”, he retorted in a peculiarly vicious tone that made Norge slightly flinch when he noticed his own hypocrisy in that statement of his of just a moment earlier.

…but he had his reasons to say no to that, while Ísland’s one was just a whim.

“You don’t understand!”, he cried in utter desperation, his face turning pink totally against his will. “ _And you!_ ”, he addressed Danmark who was already on him, his body flat against his, forcefully rocking him against the wall, “Let me go this inst----AH!”, he finished in a shriek so high and loud and needy that his little brother watched at him with wide eyes in shock, because he had never heard him make a sound like that since the day he had met him. And it was then that he understood the motive behind Norge’s reticence.

“……you said that you never cried in pleasure…..”, Ísland suddenly pointed out, slightly hurt for the lie his brother had told to him and picking up a conversation that Norge would have rather forgotten… and it maybe was the _worst_ moment ever to pick it up after so long, because that actually elicited his brother’s curiosity…

“You said that?”, he asked him, amused, and the Norwegian had no time to reply because once again Ísland was faster.

“He said that you were the loud one and that he only moaned… and, actually, all the times we’ve been together in bed, it only _seldom_ happens…”, he specified, slightly embarrassed since he had never been able to arouse in him such a strong reaction as Danmark had done just by rocking him against a wall.

To that, Danmark started to laugh again.

“That wasn’t pleasure! Just surprise, that’s all!!”, Norge protested then, but his face was now red and he seemed unable to watch at either of them in the eye because, actually, he had cum in his pants even if the last thing he wanted was to admit it out loud.

“Well, little Ís…”, the Dane conceded at last when he was able to speak again, “maybe that wasn’t completely a lie…”, he covered for Norge’s affirmation while totally ignoring his brother’s comment, knowing far too well what had happened inside his pants, “it’s actually pretty rare to hear him make such a voice…”, he pointed out at Norge’s defense. “I think that in two centuries I heard something like that coming from his throat another couple of times only… and both times he got so ashamed of himself that it would actually be no surprise, knowing him, if he just removed those episodes from his memory.”

And Ísland appeared so shocked by the other’s words that, after a brief, stunned silence, the only thing he could ask was “ _two centuries_?!”, and Danmark just smugly smirked again and nodded once.

“Don’t you fear, little Ís! You’ll make two centuries with him too in a flash, and you’ll learn from the best, so watch closely!” he stated again and, with a wink at the child, he started to undress a still very reticent Norge.

 

“…sto--- stop it, Dan! I said to stop it, did you hear me, you stupid rutting buck?! _Stop it I said!!_ ”, he repeated for the thousandth time, but that last one his troll came into play too, turning the tables in his favor once and for all.

Despite that, Danmark had been able to get all of his clothes off but his pants before that, and even like that, he had almost succeeded in removing them too.

Panting harder than after a battle, then, Norge could finally get a well deserved break – at least for the moment.

“This position suits you better, bror.”, he ruthlessly commented while relishing the view of his brother on the floor under his troll, copiously bleeding by the nose.

“That’s cheating, Nor!”, Danmark protested, but his brother scoffed at him.

“As if. And now, give back the key if you don’t want my troll to keep it from you instead.”, he threatened, his voice back to its flatness despite his still slight shortness of breath, but, to Ísland’s surprise, after the Norse’s words and despite the menace in them, Danmark started to slowly rise from the floor despite the troll still over his back, a feral grin plastered on his face and a light in his eyes that the young nation had never seen on anyone or anything before then and that conferred him a really ferocious air that seemed more of a hungry beast than of a human being as his body suggested.

Ísland flinched in a totally instinctive way, and, despite himself and his resolution to win this specific battle for his own present _and future_ sanity, Norge did the same and even took a step back.

Just one.

“You said you wanted me to share him. I never agreed on you making a move on me in front of him or, worse, on him gaining the upper hand on my body.”, Norge complained, trying to gain time or just to distract him enough, but, oddly enough for a loud lad like Danmark, the other one replied nothing and only fought against the gravity force of his brother’s troll sat over him.

And every linje Danmark gained against the floor that so gladly seemed ready to accept him back anytime, Norge’s breath became heavier and faster.

…his bror was so astonishingly strong, and that light in his eyes had always made him want to fight him harder only to have an excuse to surrender to him in the end… but now there was Ísland in the room with them, and  so he couldn’t indulge himself with that self-pleasure: he would have rather died than allow Danmark to have him in front of his lillebror or, worse, than allow Ísland to take such liberties with him!

So, without a need for words, his troll punched Danmark from above him, first in the lower back and then, when it saw that it seemed totally useless, on the head, until he couldn’t take it anymore and even _after_ that he was already unmoving on the ground.

Norge made his troll stop and disappear only when Ísland stepped in the way, attempting to make the creature stop while grabbing it by an arm and almost flying away when it tried to free itself of the small resistance it found to its movements.

“Dear Odin, Ís! What do you think you are doing?! You could have hurt yourself badly!”, Norge scolded him while closing him in a fierce and scared hug, but Ísland only blinked at him in pure astonishment, momentarily unable to find any word to argue to that.

Feeling the little one’s uneasiness, Norge finally let him go and, surprisingly, the first thing the boy did was to turn towards the unconscious and mashed figure on the ground and check on his conditions.

Only then Norge fully realized what he had done to his bror and, actually, he couldn’t remember a time when he had hurt him so badly… or even when he had seen him this hurt.

For a moment he looked at Danmark with blank eyes, his heart stopping for an eternal instant.

He swallowed with difficulty, his words locked in a knot in his throat. Then he suddenly moved without thinking and approached them, his hands searching for the key straight in the pocket where he knew it was.

“Here.”, he curtly said to his little brother, handing the small object to him, “Leave us.”, he ordered.

Ísland stiffened: even if he wasn’t really fond of Danmark and he found the man annoying and noisy and dumb, he still thought that he didn’t deserve such a treatment! And what if the moment he left Norge would have hit him more?

“Not a chance!”, he replied instead, and he even protectively hugged him in order to keep him out of Norge’s fury, and that single gesture made by Ísland shocked Norge so much that a pleading, murmured “please” left his throat before he could stop himself.

In front of that, Ísland hesitated, but the older nation had to – this time consciously – repeat it before he – still reticently – complied to his request, and, despite that, still not before threatening him that, if he laid hands on him again, he would have made so that he couldn’t get near him until he got significantly better.

 

When the door closed again leaving the two of them alone, Norge’s façade definitely crumbled and he felt his heart hammer in his chest so hard that he feared that it would have pierced through its cage and run away from him: it was the first time that he experimented panic on himself. He had seen it in people’s eyes, he had felt their hearts pump like crazy, so much so that he could hear them in the middle of battle, but it was the first time for him, and it was an incredibly awful sensation!

“Maybe I exaggerated a little, but come on! You’re stronger than that!”, he yelled at him, his eyes growing unfocused with anxious tears mounting there but still he didn’t allow them to fall. “Wake up already, you incurable fool! You hear me?! Are you trying to make me worry? But I need far more than that to get worried about you!”

Despite his words and his prayers, for a while longer Danmark lay on the floor unconscious, but, in the end, he slowly started to open his eyes to Norge’s relief... a relief, actually, that showed itself Norge’s way…

“ _You stupid bastard!_ ”, he shouted and slapped him before Danmark’s eyes could even focus on him, and the hit was so hard and loud that an angry and apprehensive Ísland, who had decided that it was better if he stayed behind the door just in case, walked in the instant later… and found Norge with Danmark in his arms desperately kissing that pulp of a man who lay half on the Norse’s knees, half still on the floor and who seemed just as confused as he was in front of such a scene after what he had no doubt that was a slap – even if he couldn’t see it with his own eyes.

And, just this once, Ísland decided to close the door back again and leave them alone.

… _just this once_ …

-&-&-&-&-&-

 

 **Linje:**  Literally it means line. This is the width of a line drawn on the ground by a spear or sword tip (or so it says the website I found about that). The plural would probably be Linjer. It corresponds to 0.0875 in (2.2225 mm)


End file.
